


After the Party Ends

by moon_opals



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s03e05 Louie's Eleven, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Good Dad Donald Meets Good Mom Daisy And Fall In Love, Kissing, Romance, Slight Canon Divergence, Supportive Jose/Panchito With A Side of Pushy In-Laws To Be for Donald, Surprise Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:41:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23843926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moon_opals/pseuds/moon_opals
Summary: “Wait, you have kids?”“Yeah,” Donald answered, guardedly. “I have three boys.”“Long story,” Daisy surmised behind him.“Yeah.”“Oh, I get it,” she laughed quietly, staring down at the vent floor. “I have a little girl."She couldn’t see his surprise in their position, but his erect shoulders told her what she needed to know. “Long story,” he swallowed.Daisy chuckled. “Yeah, something like that.”--After the party ends, Donald and Daisy try to set things up and fail miserably, or succeed miserably? It's always hard to tell with those down on their luck ducks.
Relationships: Daisy Duck/Donald Duck
Comments: 48
Kudos: 266





	After the Party Ends

**Author's Note:**

> I started this story immediately after the episode ended, but then, of course, I went back to rewatch it repeatedly. It's such a good, fun and heartwarming episode. Donald and Daisy are at their best in this series. I can't thank Frank and his team enough for this.

“Wait, you have kids?”

Donald thought, briefly and for no more than a second, he heard disappointment rattle along the vent's walls but shook the feeling off. Now, wasn’t the time to contemplate trivial matters. His kids were in trouble; his kids needed him.

“Yeah,” he said, guardedly. “I have three boys.”

“Long story,” she surmised behind him.

“Yeah.”

“Oh, I get it,” she laughed quietly, staring down at the vent floor. “I have a little girl."

She couldn’t see his surprise in their position, but his erect shoulders told her what she needed to know. “Long story,” he swallowed.

Daisy chuckled. “Yeah, something like that.”

* * *

Of the potentially hazardous and venomous events capable of ruining the party she spent months planning, the night had exceeded every prediction and preparation Daisy planned.

Surprisingly, she was okay with that. 

The party simmered to its inevitable conclusion, and defying the destruction and distractions, the party turned out better than she anticipated. Having cooled off, Daisy waited outside the museum, at the bottom of the staairs, checking her phone every other minute. She did not ignore the sweet flutter in her chest, and she didn't pretend that the man responsible for it wasn’t standing next to her. 

“I loved your performance,” she started casually, casting a warm glance that matched her still flushed cheeks, “you did a marvelous job.”

Although she had given him no reason for surprise, Donald’s brow rose with it. “You really think so,” he said, hopeful. “I don’t think the boys liked it.”

Daisy’s bangs bounced like cotton balls as she laughed. “Oh, they’re kids,” she dismissed the grimaces and ear covering motions the audience indulged in, “and the others just don’t know good taste. I have high class listening skills you know.”

The fashion industry required a certain amount of decorum, including moderate schmoozing, cutthroat truths and genuine compliments, albeit the latter being exceedingly rare in her experience. However, in the moment they shared, she’d fallen to the sincerity she rarely observed. She could have schmoozed, or she could have cut him to the heart with a practical mind. 

And her practical, pragmatic mind did voice the suggestion. She understood what others didn’t hear, but she couldn’t disregard the truth that his voice, as unique and unusual as it was to many, had swayed her heart.

He had swayed her heart and continued to do so as they beheld each other on the steps of the museum, until her phone vibrated in her coat pocket. She brought it to her face absent-mindedly and saw the name spread across her screen.

“Oh,” she blushed. An apologetic smile reassured for every step she took away from him. “Sorry, I need to take this.” Answering the call, she listened and nodded, “Yeah, oh, really? Uh huh. Great. Yeah, I’m in front of the Duckburg Museum. No, honey, not the Barks Memorial Museum. The museum after that one, yeah. Did you put it in your GPS like I told you? Down the road?” Briefly, she placed the phone to her neck, moving towards the edge of the sidewalk where she searched down the street. 

“Okay,” she exhaled. “I see you,” waving her hand, she ended the call and slipped it back into her pocket. When she looked over her shoulder, she caught Donald’s curious expression, and her blush darkened.

“Sorry about that,” she gripped her strap, twisting it tightly. 

“Do you need a ride?” Concern had eroded on his brow and around his eyes. Stunned at the sight, Daisy didn’t know what to say before shaking herself out of her reverie. “I can drop you off,” he offered.

“Oh? No, no,” hearing the harshness in her tone, she quickly amended, “I mean I have a ride. I was just talking to my nieces.”

“Nieces?”

“Yeah, April, May and June attend Rockerduck University. You see, they offered to -,” she didn’t get the chance to finish her sentence as the car screeched to a loud, rubbery stop.

Whirling around, Daisy sighed, crossing her arms. “Seriously?”

The passenger window rolled down, revealing a similar if different face. Her bangs were shaggier, curlier, and her mascara was light on the eyelashes. He wore a thick, purple sweater. “Sorry, Aunt Daisy,” she glanced at Donald, “who’s the sailor?”

“A friend, May,” Daisy answered, already opening the backseat door. She leaned in with outstretched arms, “How did everything go?”

Another girl, the driver, with swooping bangs adjusted the rear view mirror. Magenta hoops dangled from her ears. “Everything went fine,” she replied, “we had a healthy lunch and dinner with some Mozart in between, bath time and sleepy time.”

“Mozart?” Daisy frowned, tugging on the seat belt. “April, I’ve told you Dahlia and Mozart don’t mix.”

“Studies have proven Mozart makes babies smarter, and besides,” she added, tightening her grip around the wheel, “we wouldn’t have gotten her down for her nap without him.”

“Don’t you remember what happened last time?”

“The fire marshals and FBI can’t prove it was us.”

With a grunt of frustration, Daisy threw her hands up. “I give up,” she announced. “Someone get me the scissors. Why are these things so hard to take off?”

“It isn’t as hard as strapping her in,” a third girl in the backseat drawled, tossing her head to the right. A light thud accompanied the head meeting window. “Ow,” she groaned mutely. 

“June, can you help me with this?”

“What, no way,” she crossed her arms over her orange jacket. “She bit me last time.”

“June, she’s two and a half.”

“And she has teeth.”

“What model is it?”

Four heads followed the voice, finding Donald standing awkwardly. Seeing their attention on him, he gulped but pursued his intention. “I mean, I always had trouble getting my kids in and out,” he gestured to the kid strapped in the car seat, “and she’s asleep right? If she wakes up, don’t worry. I’ve been bitten by toddlers before.”

Daisy was trepid. “Are you sure,” she questioned, doing a double take at the tiny duckling snoring under her blanket. “I’m not worried about waking her up, to be honest, but she gets cranky.”

Donald’s decision was made. “It’s not a problem, Daisy,” he reassured. He tested the locking mechanism and the straps. He nodded encouragingly. “It’s the latest model. Is this one for your car?”

“Y-yes.”

“I can carry it to your car.”

“How did you know it was mine?”

He chuckled. “You don’t buy extra when one does the trick,” he pressed both thumbs on the buttons, slowly pulling the buckle out. He inhaled bubblegum soap and shea butter lotion. “And there you go.” Sleeping child freed, Daisy reached in and wrapped the blanket securely around her. 

Her gratitude was thick in the smile beamed at him. “Thank you,” she said, resting her child into the crook of her neck. “I promise, my car isn’t far away.”

He managed to extract the car seat with minimal effort. The years he spent mastering the skill had finally proven its worth beyond the boys’ younger years, and as he toted it to the parking lot, he couldn’t be happier.

“So…”

“Yes?”

“Her name?”

“Oh, right,” she giggled, “yeah, her name’s Dahlia. She’s two and a half, and is a giant fan of Danger Woman. Glamour never lets me bring her to work.”

“Sounds rough.”

“It is, but I’m relieved,” she reached for her keys and unlocked her car, “I don’t like her seeing my temper. This is an impressionable age for her development, and I worry she’s inherited my temper. On the other hand, we can’t say it doesn’t come in handy.”

Donald opened the backseat door. “Yeah,” he agreed, positioning the car seat correctly, “it definitely does. If it helps, my boy Huey has a temper, and he’s doing great.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

Gasping quietly, she shook her head and strapped the child in her car seat. “They sound like great kids,” closing the door, she scuffed her shoe on the ground, “they must’ve gotten it from their uncle.”

“Yeah,” he scratched the back of his neck. “Um, Daisy, I just wanted to say -,”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence. She leaned forward, pressing her beak to his, and all coherent thought abandoned him. Gripping his shoulders in a feathery touch, she guided him deeper into her. Instinctively, his arms enclosed around her waist, and their heartbeats fell in rhythm atop each other. 

Counting the years since he last participated wasn’t something he wanted to indulge in at the moment. She smelled of sweat and high class perfume, with a hint of orange blossoms. He’d ask her later what perfume she wore, just so he’d have a name to the scent. She sighed into the kiss, a dreamy spell of a sound, and he hiccuped, a little more excited than he anticipated.

It was too much for a first meeting, but as they parted, eyes still connected, doubt didn’t house itself among them. Don’t doubt this, their thoughts circulated without the other knowing. Their meeting and subsequent kiss was the most they’d ever gained in a single night after so many years of shortcomings.

At last, the kiss ended, their beaks danced near each other, gently rubbing the other until only their hands remained conjoined. 

“I should get going,” Daisy exhaled deeply. “I um...it’s way past Dahlia’s bedtime.”

“Yeah,” Donald nodded. “Sleeping schedules are important for toddlers. It took me months to get it right with the boys, and I don’t think I ever did.”

“It seems you did a good job, and they are okay, right? That Mr. Falcon guy was a creep.”

He was more than a creep, an adversary was an appropriate description of the man shoved in the back of Chief Cabrera’s police car. Dewey had explained in vivid detail the first time they encountered the mercenary, and Donald recalled a surreal dizziness before falling back on the sofa. 

But that was a long time ago, and he didn’t want to perturb the present’s niceties with the past’s unpleasantness. After all, if he was fortunate enough to meet someone like Daisy and to have her receive him so positively, there was a chance he’d be able to tell her this story and then some.

“Yeah, he was a real creep.” He grinned at her knowingly, though some would debate the tell was closer to pride, “But I don’t think he’s going to be coming back here any time soon.”

She blushed, turning shy in a second. Her demure, hooded eyes and the low tilt of her head was a stark contrast to the confidence she portrayed in the museum. “Yeah, it seems to run in the family. You’d love my sister and brother.” 

“I don’t think I’d like them more than I like you.”

Her gaze shot up in an instant; the color her cheeks ran deeper than the scarlet that blistered earlier when she set forth her rage against Falcon Graves. Donald didn’t know which one he preferred more, leaning closer to this tenderness he hadn’t experienced in years. 

“Well, yeah,” she murmured softly, “I should go.” She stepped back, further and further, going around the car until she slipped inside. “We’ll see each other soon, right?”

“Definitely.”

She waved goodbye, starting the car and pinching her attention on the street, instead of him. He stood there waving, a smile waning beside the moon and the watched car disappear into the night, along with her. 

“That was beautiful,” came a voice behind him. Donald twinged at the sound, knowing what it must have indicated, and horror climbed up his neck, suddenly realizing who could have seen what unfolded in the museum parking lot. Slowly, he turned around, and released a breath he’d been holding in the moment Daisy kissed him.

“Guys, don’t scare me like that.” His shoulders slumped, and he fell backwards onto the hard, cold ground. “I thought the boys were with you.”

Panchito was the first to sit next to him. Curling an encouraging arm around his shoulder, he pressed his cheek to Donald’s. “Oh no, los niños pequeños are with Glamour. She seemed very interested in Dewey’s late night show.”

“Dewey Tonight?”

“She said it was the most surreal and engaging thing she’d ever seen,” Jose laughed, then sighed sadly, looking down at his knees. It was obvious what he thought and felt, but he didn’t mull on it for long. Soon, Donald had a second arm around his shoulders and another cheek pressed onto his. “But enough about that, what about that personal assistant, Daisy, eh?” He nudged him conspiratorially in the ribs, not enough to hurt but to tease at what they knew was unfolding between them.

“She kissed me,” Donald sighed with a ghost of a smile on his beak. He hadn’t planned to say it aloud so soon, but the memory couldn’t be contained in himself alone. Nonetheless, Panchito and Jose seemed to have already known; yet, that didn’t stop them from gasping and clutching his upper arms in delight.

“Kissed? As in an actual kiss? Kiss,” his head rocked side to side in Panchito’s grip. “I mean, was it like a good night kiss?”

“It was a good night kiss.” He admitted quietly; glaring at them, he turned sharp, “But keep it down. I don’t want the boys to hear.”

“Was it like a compassionate kiss on the cheek or,” Jose started, rolling his wrist for Donald to complete what he would not. 

“A little more than that,” Donald answered sheepishly, then his cheeks darkened. It hadn’t registered in his mind until then that he had been kissed, properly kissed. He wouldn’t give them more details than necessary; his senses pinned salty tongues and pressed bodies, a soft gasp followed by whimpers.

“But we didn’t go far,” he added quickly, cheeks faintly pink,“her little girl was in the backseat. It was far past her bedtime, poor thing. She was knocked out.”

Jose covered his mouth, eyes emotional. “And she’s a mãe,” suddenly, he cupped Donald’s cheeks and thrust him towards him, forehead touching forehead, “this is incredible, Donald. You, a father to three, strapping boys, and she, a mother to a precious daughter while working a full time job. Can you believe the luck?”

“I don’t think luck -,”

“Aye, I can’t wait for the wedding,” he interjected, wrapping his arms in a protective, joyous embrace. His hands curled around his head as Panchito hugged his back, letting his head rest on the back of his shoulder. “Oh, you must call her, and set up a formal date. It’s only appropriate.”

Not even the Titanic could sink faster than Donald’s stomach the moment Jose uttered those words. “Call, date,” he repeated numbly. The realization pulled him down fast and deep into cold waters he didn’t have a chance of escaping. 

“We’re going to be best men,” Panchito sniffed.

“I want to catch the bouquet, after we perform at the reception.”

As his friends imagined his wedding, now, a permanent fantasy, only one thought ran through Donald’s head as he stared bleakly down the street where her car disappeared onto. 

“Aw, phooey.”

* * *

“Does he have a job?”

“Daff.”

“I mean, you kissed the guy after knowing him for what? Three minutes? What really happened in that elevator,” she hummed suspiciously. "Random singing to strangers doesn't happen in elevators."

Of the countless disasters she encountered that night, answering her sister’s three way call wasn’t the worst decision she made. Another forty-five minutes until she arrived at her house and Daisy didn’t want to spend them listening to a podcast or dwelling in silence. She glanced into the rear-view mirror and smiled, seeing Dahlia deep in her slumber. 

“It wasn’t like that  _ Daffodil _ ,” Daisy stressed, tightening her grip on the wheel, “he was nice to me, and he has a beautiful singing voice. You’d understand if you heard him. Also, he defended me from Glamour. Can you believe that? No one has ever stood up to her before him, and he gave me the strength to stand up for myself.”

“After you kicked a trained hitman’s ass,” the third voice cackled. “I am so mad I missed that.”

“Dillon, that is not the point.”

“What?”

“The point,” Daisy pushed on, determined to speak over Daffodil, “this guy was sweet and nice and handsome, and I really like him.”

There was a pause, a light pause, and Daisy flickered at her phone propped in its holder. A paused silence rarely indicated anything good when it came to Daffodil, but Daisy didn’t want to press any buttons, not now.

“Does he know about Dahlia,” and there she reached the crux of her argument Daisy expected. It was always an argument, as her sister, understandably, voiced her concerns over the obstacles single mothers faced in dating circles. “You have to be very careful with these things. You don't know him.”

"I don't know him yet, Daff."

“You said he was a dad, didn’t you?”

“No one asked you, Dillon, please butt out.”

He scoffed, and Daisy imagined his eye roll while tucked comfortably in his hotel bed. “You asked me when you called me. Don’t you know what time it is in Macaw?”

Daffodil  _ pfft _ . “Just because you’re working offshore doesn’t mean you can’t talk to your big sisters once in a while.”

“I talked to you yesterday.” He was more incredulous than annoyed. “Look, Daisy, do you like this guy?”

It was a question Daisy had picked at since her spontaneous kissing scene.  _ Did she like him? _ He seemed genuine and sincere, and there was something about him, fragile yet durable that she wanted to protect. Pinching her gaze down the street, mentally preparing to make her turn, she nodded.

“Yeah, I like him. He has three boys he raised, alone, and I don’t know. He feels different. Real, you know?”

“Okay, fine,” Dillon said. “Call him back tomorrow or text him, make a date, and if he turns out to be an asshole, we’ll show him a dapper time.”*

Daisy chuckled dryly. “Don’t bring him up again. You could’ve gotten arrested.”

“It was worth it.”

“And you?”

“I suppose there’s no harm,” Daffodil replied warily. “Just don’t have Dahlia around him too soon. She’s so young and impressionable.”

“Of course, Mom,” but despite her flippant tone, Daisy had already decided to keep them separate, for now. Only until she had squared him out. And then... _ wait _ , her stomach skipped five beats in three seconds.

“Oh no, no, no,” she slumped down as her shoulders spiked up to her ears. “Rassafrassin, Daisy.” Her fists collided as the shout doubled across the window glass, and she let out a tiny gasp, spinning around to see Dahlia’s head bob in slight agitation. Caramel freckles blinked at her every time they passed near a lamp post. 

She returned to the road, pressed on the brakes light and breathed.

“You didn’t get his number.” The smirk in Daffodil’s voice was infuriatingly palpable; if only she was near her sister now. “Typical Daisy, but you've got his name?”

“Yeah, I do, and I think I recognized him on the news.” The more she thought about it,  _ yes _ , she’d definitely seen him on a Roxanne Featherly report. “I’ll look into that.” 

She made the turn into her driveway. “Alright, I am heading inside and sleeping the night away.”

“Alright, night, call me when you’ve secured the date, love you” Daffo signed off.

“Don’t listen to her,” Dillon teased. “She’s gonna call you before you’ve even found his name on Waddle, but yeah, love you.”

Daisy smiled tiredly. “Night guys, love you,” and with the car parked, at last, she looked back at Dahlia. This small, fragile little creature depended on her. Letting her down wasn’t an option, and no matter the circumstances surrounding her birth would Daisy think to allow that to fuel her shortcomings. “It’s time to go inside, baby.”

Holding her in her arms, she thrust the key in the door, and heard a sleepy groan in the side of her neck.

“Party Momma?”

“Hm? Oh yes, I went to the party.”

“Fun?”

Daisy stopped in her kitchen, which was connected to her living room and stared at the refrigerator adjacent to her line of sight.

“Yes,” she said, smiling a secret smile Dahlia didn’t see and wouldn’t understand had she seen, “I had a lot of fun, and I'll tell you all about it in the morning.”

Abridged, naturally.

**Author's Note:**

> (*) Dapper is not technically an OC. 
> 
> Dapper originally appeared in a nameless role in 1946's Donald's Double Trouble. He portrayed Donald's body double Donald hired to impress Daisy, after Daisy threatened him with a breakup due to his behavior and speech. He looked identical to Donald except for his manners and English accent. He didn't reappear until The Legend of The Three Caballeros where he was given the name Dapper. He's a dick.
> 
> I've always wanted to write this kind of story but wanted to wait until we met Daisy. I'm more than satisfied. It was a great episode. Feedback is much appreciated, and thank you.


End file.
